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James Schuyler: Last Poems

I’m following a link here: one that takes me from my previous post – A Question of the Light – to a visit made this Sunday just past to Monk’s House in Sussex, once the home of Virgina and Leonard Woolf, and from there to James Schuyler, perhaps the least celebrated of the New York Poets, an Anglophile who never set foot in England, but who was fascinated by the English countryside and English gardens and read about them continuously, amongst his favourite sources being Virginia Woolf’s diaries. 157 more words

James Schuyler

he was always you

he wrote to me

sometimes he’d sing

the future we planned

was more than i’d imagined

the walls came down

1989’s Berlin

then he ran away… 65 more words


close to her heart

smudged my lipstick
but i don’t mind
the taste of your sweet lips
as they wrestle with mine
full of vigor, true desire

excuse me i shouldn’t talk… 36 more words


the safety of your will

the storm rises but
i see your face
as you pull me closer
to the safety of
your will and i’m frightened
but a moment… 14 more words


you'll retrieve them

late nights
have me dreaming about
days when we’ll breathe
the same air
and you’ll say the sweetest things
and i’ll just smile
since i’ll lose my words… 31 more words


no response

trust issues
peeking through the peephole
walking in the shadows
hiding in plain sight
listening, no response
pausing until further notice
no, that’s not mine


the roadblocks we make

but’s are the roadblocks we
make for ourselves
they pause us when we really
ought to jump in, head first
seizing moments before they
escape, yet here we are… 10 more words